


Batman v Superwoman

by twriting



Series: World's Finest [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, World's Finest (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Female Clark Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twriting/pseuds/twriting
Summary: Early in his career as the mysterious Bat of Gotham, he uncovers evidence of an inhumanly powerful woman working behind the scenes to help people. He attempts to contact her discreetly to see if she can aid him in his war on crime.Or, Bruce Wayne is stalking a college girl. It all depends on your point of view.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne
Series: World's Finest [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554871
Comments: 6
Kudos: 94





	1. Chapter 1

Something moves through the world with the concentrated power of a hurricane. It takes him three months to track the heart of the storm to Metropolis.

Her. It takes Batman three months to track her to her dorm room at Metropolis University. As it turns out, Lex Luthor is only the second most interesting alumni of Smallville Junior/Senior High School.

Cantrell Kent's dorm room is on the seventh floor of one of the university's older dorm buildings, built under an out of date code that allowed buildings of less than eight stories to have only one tiny elevator. Her narrow window faces the featureless back wall of the Arts and Letters wing of the university library, a Brutalist monstrosity that makes Gotham's Dark Deco school of architecture look warm. It's disturbingly easy for him to slip unnoticed into her dorm room.

Mentally she was second in her class only to Lex Luthor. Physically she has abilities that would utterly overwhelm even the most exotic of Batman's adversaries. Socially she lives in a room smaller than the shower in Bruce Wayne's en suite. Standing in her dorm, his shoulders take up almost the entire space between her cot and dresser.

One set of footsteps approach, a long stride in boots. Good. He estimated she would be arriving home alone around this time. The door opens and she stands silhouetted in the light, something sticking out of her mouth that takes him an instant to recognize as chopsticks.

**"Ms Kent - "******

** **** **

A gargling screech sprays her mouthful of chewed cabbage and mushrooms in an arc that ends at his crotch. The rest of her takeout order hits him in the face half a second later. The most powerful being on the planet shrieks and runs, hands flapping as she screams for someone to call 911.

The Batman makes his escape through the window, dripping greasy fake Chinese food.

* * *

* * *

"Say that again," he growls at Alfred.

"Why? Which part of 'I told you so' did you not understand the first time?"


	2. Chapter 2

Upper Midtown around the west side of the university has all the best nightspots for students, but you've got to watch out because a lot of creeps like to hang out there to target university girls. Cantrell Kent always ends up as being point against those types, something about being nearly six feet tall and able to toss a three-string bale of alfalfa across a room with one hand. So when an expensive high-performance electric car cuts Cantrell and her friends off at the curb she is ready for trouble.

The first club was a complete waste of time because of course the place closest to campus would be at capacity on a Friday night. Now Lori, Jimmy, and Cantrell are making their way through the party district in search of a place that is A) Not full, B) Cheap enough for students, and C) Meets more than the bare minimum for wheelchair accessibility.

The back streets are crowded and music blasts through the walls of clubs and bars and there are lines outside of absolutely everywhere.

"We're never going to get in," Cantrell says.

"We'll get in," Jimmy speaks with utter confidence. "We're hot."

Lori's outfit involves a shimmering green dress and a lot of glittery makeup that she'll definitely regret, but regrets and hangovers are for later. Cantrell went with jeans and a black t-shirt with a red DJ Hugo D logo and heels that put her over six feet. Lori keeps looking at her and muttering something about unfair metabolic advantages. Jimmy of course looks better than either of the girls, the jerk. He's amazing in a blue minidress and perfect makeup.

"Why don't we try Masterbeats?"

Lori shakes her head. "The only accessible bathroom is up a flight of stairs."

"Seriously? How is that accessible?"

And now a brand new sports car, a Kord Super e-Go, cuts them off at the curb. Lori's wheelchair wobbles on the narrow curb ramp. Right in front of them the driver's side door opens and a twenty-something man with dark hair and an expensive suit says "Ms Kent, can I offer you a - "

There's an anti-crime alarm hanging from her purse. As he starts to speak Cantrell pulls it loose, activates it, and tosses the shrieking device into the car. Then she kicks the door shut and grabs the handles on Lori's chair.

"Stop following me, you creep!" She keeps her scream down to human levels. "Lori, Jimmy, run!"

They escape through the laughing crowd. Someone throws a drink at the car as it pulls away.

Wide-eyed, Lori looks back over her shoulder. "Was that - "

"No," Cantrell says firmly. "I know who you mean, but no. He's just some creep who won't leave me alone."

Jimmy shakes his head. "What a weirdo."

"You have no idea."

* * *

* * *

"Sir, I am disappointed to report that your parents and I have raised an absolute muppet."

"Alfred. What the fuck."

"She has a mobile, sir. I suggest you learn how to use yours."


	3. Chapter 3

"H'lo?"

"Miss Kent, we need to - "

"It's four in the morning! What the heck is wrong with you?!"

*angry dial tone*

* * *

* * *

201-46: Ms Kent, this is Bruce Wayne. I would like to arrange a meeting at your earliest convenience.  
(Timestamp 8 November, 6:46 AM)

201-46: Ms Kent, this is a matter of some importance.  
(9 November, 11:08 PM)

201-46: Ms Kent, it has been three days since my first text.  
(11 November, 2:36 PM)

201-46: Please respond.  
(12 November, 2:19 AM)

* * *

* * *

From: Bruce.Wayne@waynepersonal.com  
To: cantrell.j.kent.001@metropolisuniversity.student.edu

Dear Ms. Kent,

I am writing to inform you that I have matters of importance to discuss which will have a direct personal impact on you. It is in your best interests to meet with me as soon as possible.

I have attached my contact information to this email and included it in the postscript below. Please use this information.

This letter is to notify you of the need for us to meet, and request your immediate action in this matter. Thank you for your swift attention to this.

Sincerely,  
Bruce Wayne

* * *

* * *

"Mr Wayne, I have a personal message to pass on. The caller refused to leave her name, but she did say you would know who it's from."

"Interesting. What's the message?"

"'Tell your blankety-blank frat-boy boss' - Blankety-blank is a quote, sir. Her words. 'Tell your blankety-blank frat-boy boss that I don't know where Lex is or what he did with that hecking nuke.' Um, she then went on to say that if you don't leave her alone she's going to twist your fancy car up into a little bowtie and make you wear it."

"I recognize the caller. Thank you, Luanne."

"She also said you owe her twelve-fifty for Chinese food."


	4. Chapter 4

Five days, three emails, and one hand-couriered letter later, Bruce Wayne finally manages to convince Cantrell Kent that he is not interested in Lex Luthor's unlicenced nuclear arsenal.

What concerns him are three objects salvaged from a yacht sunk during the bizarre and tragic Delores Winters affair. A computer hard drive, an incredibly compact maser weapon, and a splinter of material that defies all analysis except that it is green and glows. Information recovered from the water-damaged drive indicates a link between the splinter and the Kansas-Kawatche meteor fall.

Public records indicate Cantrell Kent was found abandoned by the side of a Kansas road the same night as the K-Fall.

She agrees to meet him in Ivy Town, Connecticut. Close enough to halfway between Metropolis and Gotham.

* * *

* * *

Wayne knows.

Fudgesticks.

Obviously Cantrell knows about Wayne's weird one-man war on crime. As soon as she'd heard about the so-called Batman of Gotham she found a high roof in Manhattan and did a bit of long-range snooping. She'd been fascinated to see that the Batman was a skilled human with a lot of expensive gear, and disappointed that he wasn't like her. Based on what she had seen that night, Cantrell had decided to respect his privacy and give him space to work.

Mr Wayne obviously has problems respecting other people's need for personal space, because she has 'agreed' to meet him behind a Bibbo's Louisiana Fried Chicken that won't open for another three hours. She's in what she thinks of as her work clothes. Heavy boots and denim work pants and a black hoodie with her House emblem in red. With the hood up her face is obscured enough that she doesn't need that trick where she makes her eyes glow. So now here she is, waiting for a billionaire who likes to dress in black and go out at night looking for rough action.

That sounds like the start of the sort of books Chloe used to pretend she didn't like. Ew.

Speaking of ew. The big container for cooking oils is seriously overdo for pickup, and the parking lot reeks of old grease. They probably could have picked a less disgusting place to meet.

A cheap old car stops on the edge of the parking lot. The car's engine and lights die, and a big man in a baggy suit gets out.

"You the girl from the Golfo Tortugas rescue?" The man strikes a match with his thumb, staring deep into the tiny flame. Regardless of what he's wearing his face is clear enough, at least for her eyes.

"Yes."

"Pat Malone. Call me Matches." Is this seriously his idea of undercover? This must look like a drug deal.

Actually Cantrell is amazed there aren't at least five drug deals going down in this parking lot right now. This is a college town after all.

"Thanks for meeting me." He walks towards her, his steps surprisingly quiet for a big man. "We need to talk - What's wrong?"

Burning. Under her skin. A heat like her blood is starting to cook. She can't breath.

That stuff. He has that fucking stuff. Its light is cutting through her bones, burning her nerves.

Stumbling over her feet, she falls back against the grease dumpster.

* * *

* * *

Stop. When he moves close to her it causes distress. The K-Fall material is the least unlikely cause. He needs to move away before -

* * *

* * *

"You smell worse than an unwashed alcoholic pongo after a three-day respite in an inexpensive brothel in Tampere."

"That is a disturbingly specific benchmark."

"It is a disturbing memory, sir."

"She threw a grease dumpster at me."

"Unsurprising, really. Your reputation as a playboy is overstated."

"I'm aware."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pongo: Out of date British slang for a soldier. Sometimes Alfred is deliberately old-fashioned.
> 
> Metropolis is in Connecticut and Gotham is in New Jersey. NYC is still in NY, it's just much smaller than in real life.


	5. Chapter 5

She just does not get why Lori likes Iron Munro, but it's on the playlist Lori sent her so Cantrell is doing her duty as a friend and listening to third rate keyboard pop-rock. Cantrell lets herself into her room to the sound of sappy romantic lyrics that just seem completely unlike Lori.

The room is a bit stuffy. After the last incident the university updated the window locks through the dorm and Cantrell makes sure to lock hers while she's out. She cracks the window open a bit to let in some cool late Fall air. Double-checking the blinds are properly closed, because she refuses to take chances anymore, Cantrell drops her phone and earbuds on the drawer and stretches. It's been a couple of days since she last slept and she figures she needs at least a solid five hours tonight.

Cantrell strips off her clothes and tosses her pants on the bed. The sweater is nice, a gift from Lana, and needs to be stored properly. She slides open her tiny closet so she can put it in the organizer.

"Ms Kent. First of all, let me apologize for - "

* * *

* * *

"Oh dear sir, there is a campus security alert at MetU. It seems there was yet another prowler spotted last night in the Wylie Residence."

"Throwing me out her window was completely unnecessary."


	6. Chapter 6

Wayne Tower is seventy-one stories of weirdly phallic Dark Deco architecture capped by a glass observation dome. What can only be called the main shaft of the building hosts gargoyles that peer out in every direction across Downtown Gotham except up.

Cantrell Kent drops quickly down from the skies and hides herself under the observation dome. Wayne's offices were never secured against someone with her abilities and she has the window open and locates a blind spot in the office's camera coverage in less than five seconds. She leaves the window open behind her in case she needs to make a quick escape.

Now for the hard part. She has no idea what Wayne's office schedule is or whether or not he'll come in alone. With only one day that can really be said to be a day off, Cantrell hopes he shows up quickly.

And today turns out to be her lucky day, because she can hear the motors of his private elevator working. Cantrell faces the doors, makes sure her hood is up and her eyes are glowing in case he's not alone, and tries to look serious. This'll show him.

The elevator doors slide open. In her best imitation of his digitally-distorted Batman voice she says "**Wayne, we need to-oh-ooooh darn**."

Wayne is not alone. The woman with him is tiny, extremely pretty, and only half dressed. The size difference is ridiculous. She looks like a housecat next to a panther. The woman is not over-endowed and Wayne's very large hand engulfs her entire breast. Her own hand is down his pants and even through fabric Cantrell can see it is obviously not big enough for the job.

Faced with a figure hovering a foot above the floor with glowing red eyes staring out from under its hood, the woman screeches like an angry Siamese and tries to climb Wayne for safety. She obviously forgets to let go of something vital because Wayne groans like he's being stabbed and clutches his crotch, grabbing at her hand through his pants as she attempts to drag herself to his shoulders.

"**Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry!**"

Cantrell makes her escape through the wrong window, spraying safety glass across the observation decks and street below.

* * *

* * *

> 201-46: This never happened.

> Childe5-12: Yes


	7. Chapter 7

This time they agree to meet in a hot dog place near the campus in Calvin City. They meet on a Saturday night, lost in a crowd of university students and surrounded by the smell of broiled hot dog meat and stale alcohol. At a sticky table just big enough for drinks and food they finally sit down face to face.

"This is getting out of hand."

"Yes."

"We need to discuss things like adults."

"Yes."

"Because frankly, we are starting to look like fucking idiots."

"I'm sorry, but that's pretty much just you thing."

"What happened to discussing this like adults?"

"I'm eighteen, I can be childish if I want."

"I feel that gives you an unfair advantage here."

"Well gosh I'm sorry, but you're a twenty-four year old multibillionaire with a private arsenal. I need every advantage I can get."

"You can fly."

"You have an entire fleet of aircraft."

They're undercover again, or at least she's dressed in her work clothes while Wayne is in his Matches Malone outfit. Maybe not exactly discrete, but no one in this greasy pit has noticed them yet.

Bruce Wayne has not shaved in at least a couple of days. With his cheap polyester suit and rumpled trenchcoat, the guy at the cash register thinks he looks like a casting reject from a remake of Colombo. He decides the scruffy loser is probably the younger woman's unemployed alcoholic brother, and then he forgets about both of them in the Saturday rush.

"How did you get in my office?"  
  
"The same way you got in my closet. By sneakery. How did you get that piece of the K-Fall? Steal it from the Kawatche?"

"No. As far as I can tell this piece was found off Kawatche land. On a private ranch."  
  
"Oh. Sorry."

"I recently recovered material from the wreck of Delores Winters's yacht. I was able to partially reconstruct information from a damaged hard drive that indicated the green K-Fall material might be hazardous for you. I wanted to discuss the matter."

"You heard a rumour I might be allergic to cats, so you brought me a kitten?"

"In hindsight, a mistake."

"I accept your vague gesture in the direction of an apology, maybe?"

The crowd is changing, getting drunker and louder. Someone elbows Cantrell's shoulder and she remembers to flinch and say 'ow'. He calls her babe as he apologizes and starts to smile at her. Then he looks at the glowering man in black and the way his calloused hand covers the table and he merges back with the crowd.

Tomorrow he'll wonder why his elbow is bruised.

"I'm sorry. This is rapidly degenerating into an argument. I came here to ask for your help."  
  
"The nation's most cartoonishly rich man wants the help of a first-year student scrapping by on grants?"

It's getting harder to talk as the crowd grows louder. At least it is for him. He leans forward. "Gotham could use some help. The old criminal associations are falling apart, the police are some of the worst in the country, just glorified security guards for the wealthy, and there are two gangs of rich White kids ready to burn the whole place down for kicks."

"The Mutants and the Jokerz? I saw profile on them."

"On top of that, other international syndicates see the situation as an opportunity to muscle in on a major port city. Gotham already has the highest violent crime rate of any major US city, and there's a very real chance of a bloody gang war making that worse. Batman is my way of hanging a keep out sign on the door, but I could use some back up."

"Hire an army. You literally have more money than some small countries. And before you say anything, no I am not willing to work for you. I'm going to finish my degree, get a job so I can pay my bills while I help people, and keep working disaster relief just like I'm doing now. I am not going to be a rich man's private weapon of mass destruction."

She can hear just fine but it's too loud to talk like normal people. They go out into the parking lot and find a quiet corner by a dirty pile of snow. Cantrell notices that Bruce has his hands shoved in his pockets and keeps his jacket closed for warmth. She pulls her arms up inside her hoodie and wraps them around herself.

"So, if you can think of a way to do it that doesn't blow our covers, please apologize to that woman I startled. Is she a model or something?"

"She's a colleague. She fights economic injustice."

"Is that a roundabout way of saying she steals from rich people?"

"Yes."

"Good for her. Well, for her sake I hope you two aren't planning on having kids?"

"That is an extremely personal subject."

"As a former stock breeder I am genuinely concerned for her. She's tiny, and you're..." Cantrell points her chin in the general direction of his torso. She's not quite sure how to describe Wayne. "Sort of a six foot three meatwall with hobo facial hair?"

He rubs a hand over his chin. Lots of women have told him that the bristle makes him look masculine. The only two who have disagreed with that assessment are also the only two women he has met who are openly unimpressed by his wealth.

"Let's change the subject. Why are you studying social work?"

"Because I want to be a social worker."

"Don't be facetious. Why do you want to be a social worker."

"Because I want to be a social worker. I want to help people. And I need a job to pay my bills, so I'm going to get a job where I can help people."

"You have no need to pay bills."

"I do if I want a life. And I have as much right to a personal life as anyone else. Spending time with my friends helps me relax after digging people out of disaster zones. And the last thing those people need is for me to start making mistakes because I'm tired and stressed."

The back door of another cheap eatery opens and three underdressed people Cantrell's age stumble out of the light. They ignore Cantrell and Bruce and light up something that smells like dehydrated oregano.  
  
"I've only lived there a few months but Metropolis is my home, and the people there are my neighbours. If I spend more time there, well, most people spend a lot of time at home."

"Fair. And you have helped a lot of people. I just think you could do more in the open."

"Sorry but no. I am trying to stay under the radar."  
  
"By diverting a landslide."

"Only a small one."

"Fifty kilotons of rock and mud flowed sideways."

"I stay out of sight. You play mysterious, but you're all over YouTube."

"I don't take those videos, and I can't stop people from carrying phones."

"Well, I think maybe challenging the entire Mutants street gang to a pit fight in a garbage dump might have attracted some of those cameras." She changes her voice. "'**This isn't a mud pit, it's an operating table. And I'm the surgeon'**. Do you practice those lines in advance?"  
  
"How do you do that with your voice?"

"I have extremely precise muscle control. I can also tie a cherry stem into a rose knot with my tongue."

"I did not need that piece of information."

"Well too bad, because now it's stuck in your head."

"Are you this petty with everyone, or is just me?"

"Just you. It might have something to do with you breaking into my room. Do you lurk in a lot of girl's closets, or is it just me?"

"This job involves a lot that I am not comfortable with."

"I regret the question."

"Sorry."

"You know, if you really wanted to make a difference you could just start giving money away. A billion dollars is a thousand millionaires."

"Most people who win the lottery are broke within two years. In many cases they're worse off than before the win, because they've made purchases they can't afford the upkeep on, or burnt bridges with their former community. So I could turn a hundred thousand people into millionaires overnight, or give a million people a hundred thousand dollars they don't know how to manage, or I could take the time to change the system so a billion people aren't poor anymore."

"You do know you can do community development without punching people?"

"Batman is a distraction. Misdirection. While people are screaming about a lunatic dressed in a monster suit punching suburban gangbangers wearing clown noses, they're not watching Bruce Wayne. I'm staging a hostile takeover of Gotham's network of corruption, and in a few years no one else's money will matter in that city. And then I'll dismantle the network."

"They'll just move somewhere else."

"I have to start somewhere. But it would be good to work with someone who could take a more global perspective."

"Not going to be me."  
  
"With your abilities - "

"You haven't seen a tenth of my abilities. I could be running this place in a week."

"No one is asking you to run the country."

"The planet. I could run the planet. The thing is, so can ordinary people. So why should I bother when there are more useful things I could be doing? I'm studying social work so I can help people solve their own problems. And then they can go out and run the place."

"You could - "

"You know what? I bet you still don't get my problem. Here it is. No one's going to worship the Batman. But that mud slide you were talking about? They built a shrine there."  
  
"I didn't know that."

"I don't want gratitude and I don't care if people think it's gods or spirits doing all this. So long as they're not praying to me. I think that would drive me crazy."

* * *

* * *

"I'm sure she has sound reasons for her decision, sir."

"I can't argue with her reasons. I'm not sure I can even understand her reasons. But she's already saved more lives than I ever will. Makes me wonder if all this is worth the effort."  
  
"Batman is a flamboyant criminal. Bruce Wayne is a drunk with a taste for dangerous sports. Both are decoys. It's the head of the Wayne Foundation who will change the world."

Alfred is right. He knows this.

It's going to be a lot of long heavy work. Maybe he doesn't need someone who can lift the whole weight of the world. Maybe he just needs someone to help take a bit of the load off his shoulders.

* * *

* * *

She has a place in the mountains north of Metropolis. An old mine that she has concealed behind rock and debris. Inside it is lit with the glow of sunstone.

It's a place of contemplation and meditation, where the past is memorialized to provide guidance towards the future. Kryptonians called these places Fortresses of Solitude.

The voice of a man who died before she could remember him. From the Instructions of Rao to the House of El. _You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you. They will stumble. They will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders._

The last words of a man sick unto death of heartbreak. Dying of loneliness after the death of his wife. _People need to know that when things look bad, someone's got their back. That's part of what hope means._

She puts her House uniform back in its alcove.

_Not yet, dad. I don't think I can handle that weight yet._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DCU geography: Calvin City and Ivy City are twin cities in Connecticut, roughly halfway between Metropolis (CT) and Gotham (NJ).


	8. Chapter 8

"_She'll take a tumble on you, roll you like you were dice, until you come up blue_, you're in my closet aren't you?"

"Yes. I intended to step out as soon as you came in the room, but you were shimmying and things got awkward."

"You hiding in my closet is never not going to be awkward. Do you just not know how phones work?"

"Cell phones are not a secure method of exchanging confidential information, and you don't have a landline."

"Okay, now that we've established why you're in my closet, how are you in my closet? I mean look at you, you're huge."

"I'm not comfortable."

"Stop stealing my lines."


	9. Chapter 9

"I knew his background," Cantrell says as she wipes her hands on a dish towel. "But I'd never really thought about it before. And when I did think about it I realized he's never really had any peers."

  
Lori Lemaris and Brad Bashford are inside the door to the kitchen. Between Brad's running back bulk and Lori's wheelchair they make a great door. Also Lori has better arm and shoulder muscles than Cantrell and she does this thing with her eyebrows that makes people feel that their mother is angry with them.

Cantrell slides the first batch of cookies off the cooling racks into tupperware containers. "He lost his parents when he was young, and his guardian was an older guy without any kids. A real work is life type of guy. And he was homeschooled, so he was never really socialized with other kids his age. I don't think he knows how friendship works."

At the door Brad and Lori have pinned a student down with their stereo glowers. Brad taps the kitchen schedule. "Seventeen minutes," he says.

Cantrell does a quick check. Pie setting in the fridge, second batch of cookies packed and ready for the fridge, third batch cooling, brownies set and ready to be cut.

"And on top of it all he's one of those people who figures if something is worth doing it's worth overdoing.

"Hell yeah," says the guy who had literally whited out the word 'moderation' from his high school dictionary.

"So he's super grim and serious about his 'I don't want to hang out I am only here for work' routine. I don't think he's lonely, exactly. He just doesn't have friends. And I'm not sure that he's ever really had friends, or at least not many, so he doesn't know how to handle it."

Lori looks back into the kitchen. "So he just keeps dropping in and pretending it's for business?"

"Basically."

Another unscheduled student approaches the dorm kitchen.

"Hey, can I get in - "

"Schedule." Lori deploys her eyebrows. The interloper retreats.

"I don't mind all that much. I've actually started to get used to it. In a weird sort of way it's kind of funny."

Brad turns his attention to Cantrell. "So is this a Lana situation?"

"It is not a Lana situation. I'm not going out with this guy. I have standards."

Lori has forgotten to turn off her eyebrows so when she looks over at Cantrell it almost triggers an apology. "What's a Lana situation?"

"Lana was Cantrell's girlfriend in high school. She's completely insane."

"Don't be mean, Brad. Lana is your friend too."

"She thought she could fly so she jumped off a building."

"What?!"

"Brad's exaggerating. It was a YouTube stunt."

"You just keep telling yourself that, babe."

Cleaning goes a lot faster when you take care not to make a mess in the first place and tidy up as you go. There are only a couple of baking pans soaking in the sink. Cantrell turns her attention to scrubbing those.

Lori points to the first, largest, pile of baking. "So you've made all those as a friendship thing?"

"No, those are for his family."

Lori points to the second, slightly smaller pile of baking. "Those are for him?"

"Those are for me, for putting up with his crazy. You and Brad can have some too."

Finally the third pile, smallest but still not actually small. "Those?"

"Are for the dorm. For the inconvenience." Cantrell shakes her hands dry.

Lori's gaze falls on a box of Ritz Crackers. "Oh Cantrell no."

"I'm from the Midwest, Lori. Passive aggressiveness is an art form for my people."

Brad openly checks Cantrell out as she stretches for the ceiling. Lori turns her eyebrows on Brad but the big football player fails to notice. "I need a shower."

Brad unleans from the door. "I'll wash your back."

"Lana."

Brad leans back. "I'll stay here."

Cantrell leaves Brad and Lori to guard the treats. As she heads for the stairs Cantrell hears Brad blocking someone from the kitchen.

"No one touches the baking."

"My Poptarts are in there."

"What do they look like?"

"... Poptarts?"

"I'll check."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I considered linking to examples of Silver/Bronze Age Lana Lang doing something casually life threatening, but there are too many. Just assume that any given moment Lana is doing something that could end in slow death or painful mutilation, possibly for multiple people.  
  
Also assume that Clark|Superboy was into these games, because that's the only explanation that makes sense of their codependent Daddy/little relationship.


	10. Chapter 10

"Listen Bruce, it's not that I'm not thrilled to have a stalker with a known history of violence, but what are you doing here?"

Here is the food court of Metropolis University's student union hall, a 1950s Streamline Moderne building known to students as 'the bullet'. The building's stubby rounded design and smooth construction look nothing like a firearms bullet.

"Visiting my little sister." Bruce Wayne sips from a cup of coffee that manages to smell watery and thin at the same time as being horrifically bitter. Steam from the hot coffee fogs his glasses.

Cantrell Kent's lips thin. "I'm adopted. I have no surviving family. I know you must know that. All of my friends know that." She shakes her head. "It's a terrible cover and that is a terrible disguise. You just look like Bruce Wayne in glasses and a baggy sweatshirt."

"No one will believe Bruce Wayne is hanging out in a campus food court drinking bad coffee."

"That's fair, because I don't believe it. What are you doing here?" Cantrell takes a bite from her veggie and cheese sandwich. The lettuce tastes like water and wilt.

Another bundle of students staggers in from the cold and makes a collective beeline for the Jitters Express. Cantrell waves to a few she knows.

"Mannheim's Intergang is reaching out to some of the newer operations in Gotham. Joker. Scarecrow."

"You know I don't fight crime, right? There are better people to do that."

"How about international arms smuggling. Both those two are known to use nerve agents."

"How about you call a tip in to the cops? Or the FBI? Interpol?"

"I have."

"Okay," she mumbles around a mouthful of sandwich. The bread tastes like bleached cardboard. "What do you think I can do about it? Break into a strip club and knock out a few of Mannheim's teeth? That's really more your style, y'know?"

Lori breaks away from the group and comes over to Cantrell's table. Across the arms of her wheelchair she has a tray balancing various caffeine beverages.

"Hi Cantrell, what's up?" Lori's eyes are glued to Bruce's shoulders. Cantrell is willing to concede that while Bruce's personality is a flaming dumpster rolling downhill towards an inner city public toilet, his shoulders are a work of bulky art.

"Hi Lori. Another talk with the student finances office."

"Did you guys lose her forms again?"

Give Bruce credit for being reasonably quick, because he shrugs. "I'm just following up on a few things." His bright and open Bruce voice is a full octave higher than his real voice, and Cantrell finds the effect creepier than his distorted bat-voice.

"Uuugh. Okay, I'll see you later Cantrell. Text me about tonight, okay?"

Cantrell says bye to Lori as she rolls away. Lori takes one last glance back at Bruce, which is fair because physically Bruce Wayne is spectacular. And thanks to the intersection between her genetically-programmed Kryptonian sexuality and her conventional Western Earth upbringing, Bruce hits all of her buttons except the most important one.

"Why are you eating that? There are better places to eat than university food services." And there's that one button. Flaming dumpster, downhill, public toilet, etc.

"Because as long as I maintain a four-point-oh GPA I get fifteen dollars a day at the student services cafeteria and I can't afford to let it go to waste."

"How much did that sandwich and coffee cost?"

"Ten."

"So now you can afford?"

"A marshmallow square and another cup of coffee."

"As long as you maintain a straight A average in an accelerated degree program with one day off per week and no summer break the school allows you one unhealthy meal a day."

"I also need the A average to keep my scholarship and grants. Mom and dad's insurance plus the money from selling the house would cover less than a year of school." Thankfully Bruce lets her finish the rest of her sandwich in peace. She doesn't need food for fuel, but she does need nutrients to build tissue.

When she's done her sandwich Bruce leans forward, his huge hands flat on the table. "I know we're not going to work together, but I felt I should let you know that a major crime figure in your home city might be dealing in nerve agents soon."

"Thank you, I appreciate that. It is the kind of thing I should know about. But this is a weird time to tell me. I mean, I'm still in my pajamas."

"I've been trying not to ask about that."


	11. Chapter 11

The upstate New York facility had originally been built as a high-end bomb shelter for long term occupation, but even a high-end bomb shelter is just a hole in the ground with concrete walls and bad circulation. After gutting the air filtration system five times and upgrading the rest of the facility three times, the army had finally repurposed it as office space for an advanced tech studies group.

Now, lieutenants Daniels and Navarro are drinking coffee in one of the facility's tiny kitchenettes and trying to ignore the constant drone of the air conditioning. There are cheap powdered doughnuts on the counter and the room smells of cleanser and icing sugar.

Jim finishes a doughnut. Wiping his fingers clean on a paper napkin he speaks to Daniels. "So, what's new with your boy?"

"Nothing. Haven't seen a hair of him since he disappeared."

"Ha."

"Bad jokes and coffee are the only thing keeping the Luthor investigation alive at this point. Personally I think the little psycho died of radiation poisoning a year ago."

Jim tilts his ear towards the ceiling. "Hey, I think the AC got a little quieter. Not as whooshy."

Daniels sips her coffee. "Thanks for reminding me, Jim. I'd just about blocked the noise out at this point."

"Sorry."

"But," she brightened up. "Luthor's maybe-ex has another rich boyfriend."

Jim needs a second for his brain to bounce back to the previous subject. "Kent. So Olsen and... ?"

"Bruce Wayne."

"What, seriously?"

"Maybe. Likely. Wayne reached out to her in November. Emails, calls, texts, no response for over a week. Exactly one call back from her to his main business phone. We figured it was Wayne looking for any scraps of Luthor's tech he could get his hands on. And then no contact between them until early December."

"Doesn't sound romantic."

"Yeah well, two texts in December. Wayne sent 'this didn't happen', she replied 'agreed' or something like that." Daniels finishes the last of her coffee.

Jim snorts. "Okay, maybe. I mean, we've all had hook ups like that, right?"

"No."

"Right. We all have. Well, that sounds like a definite maybe on the Wayne front."

Daniels rinses her cup. She gives it a quick wipe with paper towel and then pours another cup of coffee. "No electronic contacts between them since those texts, but we've got a target lock on her through a couple of her professors and a friendly ROTC student. She's making someone a lot of cookies, and our ROTC student swears she saw Kent in the food court first thing in the morning with Bruce Wayne. Kent was in her pajamas."

"I did that a couple of times in university. Some people go to classes like that."

"I never did."

"You're a real wildwoman, Daniels. I bet you kill at parties."

"Yes. But I haven't been caught yet. Apparently, Bruce Wayne's idea of a disguise is a pair of glasses."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Phone picture's a little blurry, but it's him."

"So she's dating an Olsen and maybe hooking up with Bruce Wayne? And someone's getting cookies out of all this?" Jim shakes his head. "I don't get it, Daniels. What do these all rich boys see in a tall, attractive, bisexual genius with a baking hobby?"

"It's a mystery." Daniels takes a bite out of a powdered doughnut, ignoring the sugar that falls on her uniform. "So what's new with you? Any ideas on how a landslide suddenly decides to sidestep the town underneath it?"

"Our official theory is alien space bats."

"Works for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter in the story but I'm not done with Bruce and Cantrell being ridiculous at one another. It's just that at ten loosely connected chapters this is starting to feel a little clunky to read. Further stories will be part of the World's Finest series.


End file.
